Broken Crown
by frosted-wolf
Summary: Loki's sentence for his actions in New York have left him a different person. Thor finds his brother in a puddle of his own blood, only to realize that his younger sibling is not what he once was. Is Loki completely innocent? Were the Asgardian's methods of "fixing him" truly justifiable? Thor battles alongside Loki in his adventure to recover, realizing that his brother might not
1. Prologue

**So, for those of you who have already read this, please know that I rewrote all the chapters to this story. The characters were not being portrayed as I wanted, and I wasn't paying attention to the actual character's characteristics as much as I was paying attention to what was going on in my head. Please reread them, if you don't mind!**

**I made some changes to the plot, along with what was really going through Loki's mind. Enjoy, and please bear with me while I fix my terrible writing mistakes!**

**Ehhhh, I know it's short, I know. I've just had an idea for a story like this for so long now, and I wanted to get it started at least. So here, I throweth you a Prologue.  
I know this concept has probably been used a billion and one times, but I really want to try and write it for myself. Plus, hell, this story might even take a turn and change to something completely different.  
Either way, please enjoy! Feedback is always welcome!**

Mjolnir hit the earth before he had time to register any coherent thought that might have passed through his frenzied mind. Red cape billowing, smile faltering and fists clenching, Thor took a step forward, his eyes darting frantically around the drastic change of scenery. No longer was he surrounded by the elegant golden hues of his home planet, nor the bountiful landscape which he knew so well. No, instead he found himself surrounded by dark, dank colors, accompanied by unpleasant smells. His feet shifted on the concrete beneath him, while his eyes looked forward at the building before him. The dazzling lights and loud sounds of the silver road monsters behind him did little to hide the fear embedded deep within his chest.

Despite his many visits to the planet, and the many battles he had fought there, the warrior still did not know his way around Midgard as well as he ought. Luckily, however, his memory of the few times he had roamed the world saved him from being a wandering nomad with a wounded brother. After the battle in New York several months ago, surley he would not have forgotten one of his most trustworthy friends, even if said friend was a self absorbent millionaire with a metal suit.

As soon as the metallic doors slid open with a slight _wshhh_ sound, Thor opened his mouth to speak the words he dreaded hearing himself. The warrior swallowed his pride and proceeded to speak, his ego thrown out the window. He was left a mewling puddle of self loathing and emotions carrying a bleeding body.

Tony Stark stepped out of the door frame quite groggily, rubbing his eyes as if he had just awoken from a nights' slumber. The smell of alcohol was most prevalent, the scent practically radiating off him like a strong perfume. Before he had time to utter a snobby "What do you want", his eyes opened all the way and his mouth shut tight. Seeing his fellow avenger, the one that lived- literally- _worlds away_ on his doorstep left him almost speechless, save for a low squeak of befuddlement.

"Anthony Stark," Thor said, his voice slightly trembling. "I need your help,"

At this the millionaire cocked an eyebrow, his expression conveying that of confusion more than anything else. Thor? Asking for help? No no no… asking _Tony Stark_ for help? Either Tony had had way to much to drink, or the world was really coming to an end. As much as he wanted to speak out, he was frozen in his place, his mouth caught in a half grimace mized with a smirk. Thor seemed to sense the man's confusion, realizing that he had yet to state exactly just _what_ he needed help with. His next words slipped from his tongue with a bitter sadness, shaking his own heart.

"Loki, my brother," the warrior began, his breath heaving. Tony could have sworn he heard tears forming behind the god's voice, along with the sadness that filled his aura. "something has been done to him."

**Also, follow my tumblr: Frosted-wolf ! Tom Hiddleston posts for days c: Did you like it?**


	2. Realization

**I'm really happy with this update, actually! I feel really confident about this story now please put up with my LOVELY organization skills… *drowns in sarcasm*. I only have two more chapters to post and then we'll be back on track guys! **

**Yay, another chapter! . I have some really good ideas for this story... I only hope that people will read it! I can't wait to get into the angsty, crying, bromance and affection... it's going to be a joyride!  
I hope you guys like this one, it's slightly longer. The chapters should grow in length as the story progresses. Please leave feedback and let me know how you like it, and if there are any changed that need be made! Thank you again for reading, and stay tuned for the blood and gore c;**

Chapter Text

The chains bit into his skin, nearly cracking his frail wrists. The dark haired prince was sniffling, shivering in the corner of the dark room in which he was imprisoned, left with nothing but open wounds and the cavity of his own mind. His limbs ached with yearning to see the light again. His heart throbbed for the comfort of his home.

"_Thor?" _he had croaked when he first opened his eyes. He heard no response- no thick, deep voice to tell him everything would alright. Instead there was only darkness, and the annoying sound of dripping water. His memory had betrayed him, leaving only a blank, white void in the wake of lost memories. His people had thrown him in this cell, had ordered his torture, though he knew not for what. Through his childhood, he had begun to know the people of Asgard as good willed and trustworthy, only condemning the criminals worthy of terrible punishment. The last he remembered before being thrown to the stone floor was the look of his brother, the fear-stricken form of his stupid brother.

He remembered being held over the void, Thor's eyes portraying a look of confusion.

_Confusion- pah! Why so confused brother? You only pretend not to know! I am a monster, a Frost Giant. You, nor Odin, could ever accept me for my true heritage!_

__At that thought he let go of his brother's hand, allowing the weightlessness of the void beneath him to overtake him. He would never be seen by his family again, he would make most certainly sure of it. He was a disappointment to his entire race, and if he were to show his face on Asgard again with the risk of its people discovering his lineage, he would be torn limb from limb and roasted for feasting. He was a failure, a good for nothing disappointment to his family, and monster carved by envy and hate. To return to Asgard would be suicide, and though the thought of such a thing sounded so sweet, he could never bring himself to face the faces of his once people.

After falling for what seemed like centuries, Loki landed on a rocky terrain accompanied by dark shadows. The ground crunched beneath his feet as he walked, searching for any form of life. Never had he been to this world, and he soon found why. A figure stepped from the darkness, hooded and shrouded in black. In its hands lie a blue orb, illuminating the figures scarred face. Loki's mind grew hazy, and he shook his head to rid the nauseated feeling from his bones. Something about that orb was rather odd, and he was not fond of the idea of it. Despite his attempts to keep a clear mind, the man stepped forward and placed the orb in Loki's hands. The young god's mind grew blank, his thoughts of failure and family fading slowly away. As he grew less and less aware, a word that stained his tongue became more prevalent to his conscious.

_Chitauri. _

His arms sat on his lap, across his bony knees. The chains restraining his wrists were thick and heavy, preventing his frail hands from rising to his temples to ease the pain of the almost memories. The men had not come back to hurt him yet… maybe they had forgotten? No, no that couldn't be- they kept a tight scedule, never being gone for longer than what Loki guessed was two hours. Perhaps the reminicing had elongated his sense of time. By the looks of it, only a little over half an hour had passed, considering the conditions of his wounds. They left him healing time after his beatings, so that next time his throat would not be too dry so that he could not scream, and his skin would be a fresh canvas.

They said he had killed hundreds of people, that he had nearly taken over a whole planet. They called him a disgrace and a mistake, a monster and a failure. The latter he knew to be true, but the former? He had not recalled anything of the sort. The last thing he had wanted o do after being banished from Asgard was to draw attention to himself, to let his family know he was still alive.

They asked him questions he did not know the answers to, and beat him for his silence. When he proclaimed he did not know what they were speaking of, they tied him to the stone table and cut into him like an animal being carved for dinner. It was the same routine, over and over; the constant name calling and jabs, and the same cried ripping from behind his lips.

He sat against the stone wall of his cell, counting the bricks that lined the space in front of him. The thin pants that were draped over his legs did nothing to warm what was covered, let alone soak up the tears that fell onto them from his eyes.

The second Loki stepped foot on Asgard after the monstrosity that had unfolded, his knees buckled and he collapsed to the dirt. Roars or furious anger bellowed in his ears, his vision pulsating with wicked confusion. His mind reeled from being dead for so long, from being asleep while the powers of that cursed scepter invaded the cavities of his being. People were yelling at him, they were saying terrible things about him. But for what reason? What had he done?

Thor stood next to his brother, his eyes conveying a look of disappointment mixed with an odd sense of sorrow and pity. Loki managed to stand up by himself after a few minutes of weak struggling, only to trip backwards and fall into Thor's chest. The trickster's hands were bound behind him, thick and heavy chains clasped around his bony wrists.

They stood in the throne room, Odin, king of Asgard and their father sitting before them. Loki shoved himself away from Thor and stumbled forward in a frenzied attempt to make sense of the situation. His limbs quivered with anxiety, and his hands clattered the manacles that held them. The trickster's head swiveled on his neck, desperately looking for a reason to this insanity.

Thor seemed to notice this, and twitched an eyebrow. This was not the Loki that had almost destroyed Midgard- no, this was a Loki that was scared. The one that Thor remembered, the one he would console at night. The elder took a step forward, his arm slightly reaching for his baby brother. Had Loki truly returned? Was he no longer evil?

_Had he ever been evil?_

__Thor's mind jolted at the thought, along with his heart that greatly wished that assumption to be true.

Before Thor could utter a word, two golden-clad guards ripped Loki from his position and shoved him to the ground so that he was kneeling. Kneeling before his father. Kneeling before all of Asgard.

Mangled black hair swished as Loki turned his head to look behind him, to get a glimpse of his brother. Why had brother brought him back to Asgard? Why were his people screeching for his death? Loki's loathing for Thor bubbled more than ever, the thought of Thor betraying him by bringing him back to his home causing bile to broil in his stomach. His face was perspiring, and before he knew it he had lost control. Tears spilled from his eyes, humiliation overtaking his body. He was kneeling in front of the planet that had once been called his home like a circus act, chained and guarded.

Thor stood, shocked beyond his own reasoning. Loki's face was drowned in tears, his mouth slightly opening in a silent attempt to cry out. Thor could not help but cringe at the look in his brother's eyes; it seemed to say _whatever I am being tried for, I did not do it. _

__Thor winced, desperately wanting to believe it. But he had been on Midgard when the war unfolded. He had witnessed Loki's acts and tried to snap him out of it. As much as Thor hated to realize it, Loki was the god of trickery, and for all he knew this whole "sobbing little baby" act Loki was putting on could have very well been a ploy.

Loki's mind was fevered with thoughts, thoughts that he could not control, and it was not until he shouted "I did not do it!" that he saw the pure fear and realization in his brother's eyes.

Cold. Yes, cold. He was standing somewhere cold. How he'd gotten there? No clue. The figure in front of him held a staff, slightly curved and pointed towards the tip with a glowing blue orb in the center of the half moon shape. The figure holding it did not have a face, for it was hidden under black cloth, which was further hidden by the dark sky that, though it possessed many moons and stars, produced little light.

He could not understand what the being was saying, but his mouth opened to respond anyway.

"Yes, sir," he said.

The second the staff touched his fingertips a white hot pain shot through his head, as if he had been whacked on the side of his skull by Mjolnir. After that, however, his memory went blank.

He remembered nothing.

**Like it, or no?**


	3. Bloodlust

**I didn't fix much in this one, but enjoy! New chappie up next c:**

**heehee c; here comes the blood and gore, what you've all been waiting for I'm sure!  
Warnings for this chapter- icky depictions of wounds, excessive profanity, and feels.**

Chapter Text

Shaking hands swiped across glistening marble, sending dishes and glassware shattering to the floor below. When Thor had said "something has been done to my brother", the last thing that had come to Tony's mind was _this._ The man walked cautiously around the shattered remains of used- to- be -elegant dining utensils, careful not to dirty his kitchen further than needed. After all, there were already pints of blood oozing onto the floor from a special someone, creating puddles of crimson on the white floor.

"Shit Thor," Tony huffed, his mind reeling from the sudden burst of action. One minute he'd been watching a marathon of Friends, the next he'd been thrown into a world of confusion and torn skin. "We can't just put him on the table… h-he needs something under him," he continued, running a hand through his short hair. This was certainly _not_how he had planned to spend his Saturday night.

Thor crunched an eyebrow at Tony, quickly glancing at the being, his younger brother, that was slung over his left shoulder. When Thor had arrived, Tony could only see the trickster's legs, which were covered by dark pants. It wasn't until he held the door open for Thor that he saw the_front_of the avenger's brother.

Loki's eyes were blindfolded with thick black cloth, and his around his mouth was tied fabric. The cloth tugged at Loki's cheeks, leaving red marks along his jawline. Whatever the gag and blindfold had been used for, they sure as hell had done their job. By the looks of it, Tony could tell the fabrics were tied with expertise knots, and were tighter than should have been. Around the blindfold there were what looked like… claw marks? Tony's eyes traveled down to the man's dangling arms and down to his hands. His nails were caked with blood, crusted with it.

_He'd tried to rip the blindfold off._

Tony did his best not to gag as he ran to his kitchen table, hastily beginning to throw all of the things that it contained onto the floor. Damn, he had only seen Loki's face… and whoever had done all that to his face, surely had no mercy and wouldn't have left the rest of his body free from injury. That was when Stark realized that his table wasn't exactly the cleanest of all dining tables, especially with his drinking escapades that happened almost nightly. His breath hitched and he looked at Thor, his next words coming out as grunts. They needed a blanket. A mattress. A trashbag. Anything to make their working space a _little_more sanitary.

Thor seemed confused for a moment as he looked from Tony to his gasping brother, not understanding why they couldn't just put his brother down and make him better. Tony huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Dammit Thor, he's probably got a shit ton of wounds all over him, so we can't just put him on the table and risk infection. He needs a blanket or something,"

"Ah," Thor said, finally grasping the concept. He was most certainly not a medical expert. Then again, neither was Tony.

Tony growled in impatience and at the lack of response from the thunderer. However, his emotion thawed slightly as he looked at the god; his hair was disheveled, his eyes were red from crying, and his armor was covered with the blood of his little sibling. The guy had to be at least a _little_out of it.

"I'll get it." Tony said, running quickly to rummage through whatever he had to suit the cause. His brain worked in a fevered frenzy, thinking while his body tried to find a blanket.

Why even care? Why help? Sure, Thor was a tremendous ally to not only Tony, but the rest of the avengers, but his brother, the one that was bleeding out on Stark's kitchen floor, had freaking tried to take over the planet several months ago! Why the living _fuck_would anyone want to help him? Fourteen months ago everyone had _wanted_him dead. God, when Fury heard about this…

Despite the fact that Loki was one of the deadliest villains Tony himself had come to know, the man had a twinge of sorrow in his heart. It hurt to know that the people, the Asgardians whom the avengers considered their friends, would do this to anyone, even Loki. Tony believed in revenge, but not torture.

His hands grasped an old blanket with a horse pattern embroidered on it and instantly sprinted back to the kitchen to spread the cloth on the table. A metal operating table would have been ideal rather than a crappy woolen blanket that would only soak up the blood and probably stick to the wounds, but it was better than nothing. It was better than Thor's brother contracting an infection and dying here on Tony's kitchen table. Perhaps he should replace his kitchen table with a metal operating table. Tony smiled slightly at the stupid thought.

The next few moments went past wordlessly, the only sound being Thor's heavy breathing and Loki's strangled whimpers.

"Sit him on the table, but hold him up," Tony instructed. "I need to take his shirt off to assess any other injuries he might have." Thor did as he was told, but froze when he saw Iron Man leaning heavily against the wall.

"Man of iron, are you well?" Thor asked cautiously, but did not let go of his brother. Tony smirked and put a hand on his head.

"Yeah, yeah. Can you, uh, hold on for a second?" Tony said, walking to the counter with a hand running through his hair in frustration. He quickly pulled out a glass and uncapped the bottle of Scotch sitting next to it, pouring himself a hefty glass.

Thor's face contorted in anger and annoyance. "Stark, I do not understand- why do you indulge in such pleasures while my brother is in such dire need?!" the pain in Thor's voice was unavoidable, Tony even winced a little as he took a sip of the alcohol. The god looked horrific, and quite frankly, like he needed a glass of scotch himself. Though, they probably had better ale on Asgard. After all, Thor _was_the son of a king; he should know that the consumption of alcohol helps get one's mind juices flowing! (okay, maybe only Tony had that philosophy, but he had his reasons.)

Tony put a hand up in defense and spoke, "Woah, woah. I'm coming dude, just give me a sec. I've got to recharge," Tony made himself back to the table, glass in hand. He downed the whole glass before he spoke again.

"Aliright let's, uh, get to work," Tony felt something tighten in his chest as he looked at the frost giant again. Loki looked so weak and vulnerable, which was most unlike himself. In fact, his whole demeanor had changed. Perhaps whoever had done this to him had wanted him to be this way. The internal struggle inside the mechanic's mind was truly painful; sure, he hated Loki for what he'd done, but for some reason, that anger seemed to be slowly melting away. Loki was practically leaking his bodily fluids onto his floor, and for what reason? Thor would never have let this happen to his sibling. This had obviously been kept a secret from the thunder god…

Tony's eyes widened as the pieces slowly started piecing themselves together. He still did not know everything, in fact he knew nothing but the fact that someone had severely injured Loki, but something was starting to turn in his mind. Again, the inspection of Loki was halted by Tony's words.

"You broke him out didn't you? Someone had him…"

Thor's face dropped, and his eyes looked at the floor. Dammit… he was right.

"I-I knew he was to be punished," Thor began. "when I brought him back to Asgard. But, he did not have a trial, nor time to explain his actions. He… I saw him before my people took him," Thor looked back up at Tony, his eyes watering with tears that Stark had never seen before. "Loki was innocent."

.

Tony's heart stopped for a few seconds, his mind twisting in all different directions from confusion to desperation. "Wha- how-" he could not get a coherent sentence to pass his lips, only strangled sounds of befuddlement.

"The scepter, t'was not his own," Thor said silently. His hand still held his brother up, though it was shaking visibly. "T'was of another world, one with the power to control minds,"

Tony slowly walked to the counter again, listening to Thor's words, and poured himself another glass of scotch. Thor continued talking, the tears behind his voice becoming audible in his voice as he spoke words that Tony could tell hurt like shit.

"Loki and I… we had a wonderful childhood. We fought together," Thor inhaled deeply, remembering the words he had spoken to his brother during his escapade through Midgard. "we played together. He was always, and still is, a goodhearted angel, but the entirety of my planet thinks of him otherwise, including my own father,"

"What the hell do you mean? Do you mean…" Tony couldn't grasp the situation at hand. He was dizzy and sweating, and felt like he needed to go through three more bottles of liquor before he could have an intelligent conversation with another life form. "Your father was in on this?"

Thor began to speak, but he was cut off by a strangled cry from the emaciated body on the marble table. Both of the avengers were snapped back into reality at full blast, and Tony rushed to his feet, knocking the chair his rear had just occupied down onto the floor. The cry that had come from Loki's mouth was not one entirely of pain… it was of fear. Which was reasonable, seeing as he had been taken from such harsh conditions to a completely new set of scenery. Tony waved his hand as if to say "whatever, we'll talk about it later" and hurried over to the wounded god.

The man grasped the thin fabric in his hands, feeling the smaller god flinch under his touch. A twinge of hatred flew through Tony, what with his new view of the man before him. If what Thor had said was true, if Loki really was innocent, then this was completely unacceptable. It would have been even if he wasn't innocent.

Tony immediately regretted lifting the shirt from the trickster, listening to the gagged cries that tried to escape his mouth as the fabric stuck to scabs and blood crusted lacerations. The man held his lunch back at the sight, trying not to let the smell of blood and rotting flesh send him into the bathroom blowing chunks. Once the shirt was completely off, Tony threw it to the ground in disgust- the thing was practically dripping with blood. Thor stared in horror, his mouth open and quivering with unspoken anger and fear for his brother's life.

Loki's chest was blue and black with bruising, three deep holes across his collarbone where someone had obviously shot him at close distance. Luckily for Tony, the bullets had been removed. Loki's torso was littered with gashes at least two inches deep, areas around his stomach bulging and indicating severely broken ribs. Both Thor and Tony could see the fractures through the skin, for the god was so emaciated. He had been stabbed several times, down to the bone near his hips. The side of his waist looked oddly swollen, and seemed to have… dear god, were those_screws_twisted into his skin?

"Jesus fucking Christ," Tony said in a barely audible whisper. As soon as he saw the bruises that lie underneath the stab wounds near Loki's waist, Tony took no time in undoing the god's pants and slipping them down to his knees. He had no doubt the carnage continued further down. Thor said nothing, as he was in too much shock to realize that his brother lie almost completely naked, save for a pair of thin underwear, on Tony Stark's kitchen table. Tony scoffed, eyeballing the blood that dripped from between the god's legs, and from the deep cuts that covered his thighs. There was no skin left untouched- Loki's thighs were covered in tears and cuts, leaving him looking like some kind of demonic tiger.

Tony thought the horrors had ended, until he saw Thor's eyes glued to Loki's backside.

Whipped.

He had been whipped. Not with just a regular whip, and not just once either. The lacerations were red and infected, tinted an ugly green that obviously signaled infection of a greater level. One lash was so deep, the trickster's vertebrae were visible through the bloody mess.

"Shit… we're gonna have to lay him down Thor. I can't treat him sitting up like this," Tony said, his voice cracking. He had never seen anything like this before, and he wasn't quite sure that he _could_treat him. However, Thor nodded his head in understanding, his mouth pressed to the youngling's ear as he murmured sweet and soothing words into his ear. Loki's back hit the table gently, and if the gag hadn't been so tight around his mouth, he probably would have shattered the windows with his screaming.

Tony's hands instantly fumbled with the fabric of the gag, trying to untie it as best he could without tugging on the god further. He would leave the blindfold on until things settled down and Loki wouldn't be as terrified. The god kept arching his back off the table, and screaming what sounded like a muffled "_no"_as he turned his head away from Tony's touch. Tony cursed, unable to untie the knot that was obviously tied by unhuman hands.

"Thor, get me the scissors, in the third drawer," Tony huffed, gently holding Loki's wrists down to keep him from squirming and opening his wounds further.

"May I ask why-"

"_Just get the goddamn scissors Thor."_

Scissors cut through thick cloth, shaking hands guiding them so that they wouldn't touch the skin underneath it. Thor held his brother's hand, whispering encouraging words and cooing sweet lullabies into his brother's ears. However, time seemed to cease once the scissors snapped through the fabric, Tony throwing it to the ground.

Tony thought he could handle anything, but obviously, he could not. His heart cracked in two as Thor broke down in a sobbing mess onto the floor at the sight of his brother.

Thick, black thread had been used to sew Loki's lips shut, blood dripping from the incisions. Tony balanced himself on the counter behind him, his legs failing to support him any longer. Loki was slowly losing consciousness, his blood dripping onto the tiled floor in a rhythmic pattern that seemed to tick away the minutes of his life. Tony was hopeless- he was done for. If he didn't fix this, he would never be able to look Thor in the eyes again.

Thor's cries were the only thing that could be heard for several minutes, his constant calling "Oh, Loki," and "I'm so sorry," reverberating off the walls of Tony's mind. However, Tony was most certainly not one to give up in tough times. Loki needed medical attention, a doctor. And Tony new one doctor in particular, one that he fully and absolutely trusted. After the man's next words, Thor's sobs seemed to slightly grow softer.

"I'm calling Bruce."

Notes:

**How was it? Good? Bad? ehhh?****  
Let me know! I enjoy you guys' comments and stuff, and I can't believe all the attention this story has gotten already! I will try to reply to everyone personally3  
thank you for reading!****  
(also, sorry for any grammar mistakes. I typed this at school in a rush.)**


	4. (new chapter) Beginning

**NEW CHAPTER!**

**PLEASE READ:  
I HAVE UPDATED CHAPTERS 1 AND 2, AND AM WORKING ON 3. They were terribly written, and didn't quite go with the way I wanted to portray the characters and the plot. PLEASE GO REREAD THEM, IF YOU LOVE ME. I got a comment from a lovely lady, and it made me rethink how I want this story to go. AGAIN I SAY, PLEASE REREAD... AND DON'T HATE ME AGH.****  
I'll probably have to fix this one, but I thought I'd give you guys a chapter. Sorry for my unorganization- I know it's annoying. Just bear with me, I'm working on it. I get so hellbent on posting chapters that I don't realize that they suck until I go reread them days later.**

Chapter Text

"Wait, _what?"_

Tony stared at the god kneeling beside his dying brother, crying, his body wracked with sobs, before he answered Bruce. The scientist was certainly not going to take this in one gulp, just as Tony had suspected.

"Just," Tony had to swallow, for a lump was forming in his throat. Why, after all the god of trickery had done, Iron Man suddenly gave a shit about him, was the question repeating itself inside the mechanic's head. He could not take his eyes off the form lying on his kitchen table, blood dripping onto the white tile below. He could not stop his heart from aching for Thor, his fellow avenger and comrade.

Thor's words sat in his mind, bubbling and festering a feeling that Tony never thought he'd feel, especially after becoming a member of SHEILD. He was _sad._He felt _bad_ for Loki, and he just couldn't grasp why. _Why_did he care? Even if Thor was telling truth, this was Asgard's problem- not his. Then again, Thor had chosen _Tony Stark_ to help out of anyone.

If what Thor had said was true… if Loki had really been under a trance, damn, Tony would feel like shit. Under his coldhearted exterior and manly-man superpowers, though he rarely showed it, Tony had the ability to feel guilt. If Loki was truly innocent, he would most definitely owe Thor a big ass apology for being a complete and utter dickwad to his younger brother, even though at the time he had kind of been destroying the world and all. Tony made a pact with himself to fully apologize (in secret, of course) to the trickster for all the curses he'd thrown at him.

"Just come over here. I promise… you won't regret it," Tony continued, turning his back to the two gods so he could focus on persuading Bruce Banner to _get his ass to Stark Tower._

Mr. Big Green did not answer, and Tony grew impatient with the man's lack of response.

"He's innocent." Tony put the phone down before he had the chance to hear Bruce agree to come over.

The door to Stark Tower opened quite quickly about thirty minutes later- in fact, if Bruce had opened it any faster it probably would have snapped off its hinges. Tony could not tell if Bruce's agitated movements came from anxiety or confusion, but the scientist's body language conveyed that of uncertainty. Mr. Banner walked into the house, blowing breath from his cheeks and shutting his eyes as he ran a hand halfway through his hair, the short fibers sticking up awkwardly when he removed the appendages. Tony walked up to him quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets as he did so.

"So," Bruce said sincerely. By his facial expressions, one could concur that he was sleep deprived and hopelessly drowning in a bought of confusion. And he called Tony by his last name, a sign that he sure as heck had his panties in a wad.

"I know, Bruce. But… for some reason," Tony's mind reeled at the words that came out of his mouth next, despite his already accepting them. "I think Thor stole Loki. From his dad."

Bruce scrunched an eyebrow, his confusion slightly turning into greedy interest.

"Thor thinks Loki was innocent. And I have no idea why, but I'm starting to believe the guy," Tony continued, the words making more and more sense to him as he spoke. Before, they had just been floating letters, not really making sense inside his fevered mind. Now that he said them aloud, his heart raced with anger and fear, the reality of it all finally setting in on him. "He saw Loki _cry._Loki… Thor says the staff wasn't his. It was someone else's. He was brainwashed." The words that had seemed like a joke to Tony only a few hours ago were now sacred- he was practically pleading Bruce to believe him.

"Oh," was all the scientist said, his eyes looking directly into Tony's. For a few moments there was nothing but silence, that is, until Tony stepped aside and began to walk back towards the broken gods. The strangled noise that came from Bruce's throat resembled that of a choking child. "You didn't tell me it was _this_bad,"

Bruce's whole thought process had changed- the blood, the torn skin, _the sewn lips._It was, as the saying goes, enough to make a grown man cry. Loki's actions (which he'd learned supposedly weren't of his own accord) deserved punishment, yes. But this… this was the product of torture. All of a sudden Loki's actions from the past flew from Bruce's mind, the only thing remaining being the thought that someone was _dying_in front of his eyes.

Bruce remembered Thor taking his brother back to Asgard after his rampage through New York, threatening to take over the world with his staff. He remembered the look on Loki's face, the almost sense that he didn't care. That had been the scientist's last impression of the god- he had last seen Loki as a careless, want-to-be king with anger issues and a really bad little brother complex. It had been months since then, and with that image stewing in his head for such a long time, he had come to identify Loki as such. However, seeing him wounded and barely breathing beside his older brother seemed to erase any prior thoughts from his memory.

Thor's voice broke the scientist from his thoughts, and led his eyes once again to the carnage that covered every square inch in front of him. Tony stood on the other side of the table drinking a glass of something that was most likely mixed with vodka. The look on his face was that of a child bored in church, but Bruce knew, after working with him many times, that the mechanic was in deep thought.

Blood dripped from underneath Loki, sloshing into the growing puddle of red beneath the table on which he lay. Bruce's eyes returned to the scene, his mind still not able to comprehend it all. He had witnessed some pretty gruesome things, seeing as he was a scientist, but Loki was… something else. His skin was lacerated in an unfathomable amount of areas, his bones protruding at odd angles. It looked like something out of a horror movie, only worse considering the circumstances. The sight of it all drove Bruce up the wall; how could anyone do something like this to a person, even if that person had tried to take over the world? At this thought he remembered his whole reason for coming here- Loki was supposedly innocent.

"Banner, you are here to help my brother?" Thor's words were burdened with tears, an odd sight for both the other men to behold. Thor had the physique of a WWE wrestler, the face of a porn star and an ego stronger than titanium, yet he sat on Tony Stark's kitchen floor reduced to nothing more than a sobbing mess of golden locks tangled with his brother's blood.

Bruce looked at the god, his eyes traveling to the form his hand was connected to. Loki.

_Loki._

The thought could not be shaken, could no longer be avoided. The anger that welled up inside Bruce's stomach was almost unbearable, rising up his throat and staining his tongue. He wanted to help Thor; he hated seeing his friend in such a state, but the other guy could not stand the sight of his younger brother. The battle that was raging inside his mind was painful enough to making him wince in physical agony, clenching the corners of his brain and squeezing it until it felt as if it were going to implode. Bruce knew what the right thing to do was, but he wasn't sure Mr. Big Green did.

"Son of Banner-"

"Just _shut it_would you?" Bruce's voice pounded from his throat, veins popping in azure rivulets down his neck. Tony dropped his glass, and Thor grasped his hammer, the both of them staring in ready stances as they watched Bruce gain control of himself little by little. Though he had regained composure, the anger did not leave his eyes, and Tony flinched a little when Bruce looked straight at him.

"I-I'm sorry. I lost control for a second. Yes Thor, we'll get him nice and healed again," Bruce said, shrinking back into his clothes. He was slightly embarrassed at his loss of control, but Tony looked at him empathetically as if the outburst had been expected.

"Listen," Tony was now right in front of Bruce, their noses practically touching. "I know this is hard for you. It's hard for me too. And you know what, Thor could be lying. But what if he's not? We're risking our relationship with one of the most powerful beings known to man," Tony had a finger pushed onto the other's chest, as if to drive his point home. "and hey, maybe if we can get this guy back to speaking level, we can get some answers."

There was barely a minute between the end of Tony's statement and Bruce's next words:

"We need to get him off the table and into the infirmary."

The hallway to the dungeons was no less beautifully intricate than the rest of the palace, however, it did have a much darker aura. The amount of work put into every stone brick, the elegant locks that crowned the doorknobs, the heavily tiled floor and the dimly lit chandeliers made a pretty scene, but did nothing to hide the treachery that loomed in the air.

He was roughly thrown through the doorframe outlining one of the many cells that adorned the walls of the underground dungeon. His wrists were clasped, his mouth muzzled shut, and his ears ringing with the death cries of his once friends.

Cold.

It was very cold, extremely cold.

_"Loki, king of the frost giants- you should value our generosity. After all, an ice king does deserve a proper throne!"_

Spikes of iron were shoved into his back as he was slammed onto the hard stone table, the points protruding dangerously from the gritty surface. His arms were tied above his head, his legs restrained in a similar way at the opposite end of the table. He kept his eyes shut, his tongue twisted behind his barred teeth, refusing to let something as little as a snort from his lips. Monster, that's what he was. A Frost Giant, enemy of Asgard. He was a traitor by birth, but he would never admit that to anyone, for it was far too embarrassing.

_"You never quite thought you could lose it all, did you? So full of pride. So… selfish"_

Loki could not recognize the voice of the person speaking, his ears drumming with the blood pumping through his ears. The spiked underneath him punctured his back as he wriggled in his binds. It truly was a throne for an ice king- painful and undesirable.

_ "You will never be anything but a monster."_

When Loki decided to open his eyes after several days of being tied to the damn stone table, he let out the first scream.

Before him stood his once father, Odin of Asgard, a wicked smile planted upon his face.

"Ah shit, the infirmary is down a flight of stairs," Tony grumbled, quickly looking away from Thor's troubled eyes. _Tony what the hell were you thinking when you built the infirmary you big doof._

Stark tower had been a prime meeting area for the avengers for quite some time, considering its positioning and size. It had had everything- kitchen, bathrooms, Jacuzzi, swimming pool, man cave (though Natasha never participated in what went on in there) and plenty of alcohol. So, considering it was the meeting place, it was important that it have an infirmary. Should one of the avengers get injured, it would be easier to take care of them in secret instead of a regular hospital, where there were regular people. Of course, when he'd built the hospital wing, he hadn't expected a tortured, used-to-be villain to be a potential patient.

"Well, how'd he get in here?" Bruce asked, his voice tinted with slight worry.

"Thor carried him," Tony responded, taking another swig of his potent liquid that he'd poured after he'd dropped his other one when Bruce had scared the shit out of him. The man realized how utterly insane the words he had just said sounded as he looked at Thor, noticing the thunderer's weakened, fragile, and most likely delirious state. Even though Thor was supposed to be king of Asgard and all that fancy snaz, a man could only take so much.

"Do you think he'll let one of us carry him?" Bruce said, also noticing the fact that Thor was not in proper condition to carry his breaking brother.

"I guess we'll have to find out," Tony said, setting his glass on the counter with a thud.

Notes:

**I have a strong feeling that was terrible. eh.**


End file.
